Thursday, November 7, 2013

NaNo Update Thursday: Opening to my novel

Okay, I'm still plugging away for NaNo. Here is the opening of the book. Let me know what you think. Remember, we are supposed to type and not edit along the way as it slows you down. So this is first draft and very rough.

The chill air burned with every
intake, sweat beaded at her hairline and moistened the back of her neck. The
thudding of each heartbeat blocked all other sounds. She paused to listen. The night
was calm, no sounds. The eerie silence made the hairs on her arms stiffen. Where
was he? He was close; she knew it—but where?

A snapping twig caught her attention.
Pushing her dark brown wavy locks from her hot, flushed face, she cranes her
head to strain her ears for sound. She shivers, but not from the cold night air.
Hot foul breath brushes by at the base of her neck. She turns to face him. His
eyes are dark, unmoved and filled with something she has never seen before, yet
cannot describe. “Why are you doing this? Please, just let me go home.” The
words barely a whisper off her lips. She places a trembling hand on his chest.
“If you truly care about me, then let me go. You’re scaring me. Please…”

His wet lips pressed down hard on
her mouth, cutting off her words. His long arms wrapped around her tightly. His
fingers laced through the wavy locks at the back of her neck and tightened into
a fist, pulling roughly on the roots of her hair as his right hand squeezes her
waist. Pain shot through her body. Her left kidney felt as if it was about to
explode from the pressure he applied. She shuttered under his grasp, but not
out of need or lust. She tried to pull away, to take in fresh air. The need to
clear her mind and feel space becomes overwhelming, but he held on tighter. His
rough hand moved from her waist and over her, unzipping and pushing aside her
hoodie. A sudden yank at the back of her neck stretched her throat so she could
see the bright stars shinning down on what some might consider a romantic evening.
To her, it was a living nightmare.

“You smell so good and your skin is
warm, soft,” he breathed against her neck before slowly dragging his tongue
from her ear lobe to her collarbone. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears seep
from the corners. They blind her vision as she turns her head away, hoping to
find something or someone to help her. She stifled back the sobs as he begins
to rip at her shirt barely tucked into the front of jeans. She struggles
against his hold, but a flash of steel catches in her sight. A knife. Her pupils
flash bigger and a look of sudden panic covers her face. He once again pulls
her head back to look deeply into her eyes. A smile spread across his smooth
baby face as a cold metallic point presses against her stomach. “Don’t do that
or I might cut you and you don’t want that do you?” She slowly shakes her head.
“Good.” He pulls the fabric of her shirt way on the tip and she hears the rip
of fabric. Her bare skin now exposed to the chill night. “You’ll do as I say
right. No more fighting.” His words a statement instead of questions open for
discussion. His eyes warned her he means what he is saying.

She bows her head in understanding as
tears stream down her checks. He pushes her to the ground and she feels the
hard earth beneath her along with his want for her pressing atop her. She closed
her eyes. Her mind drifts to earlier in the evening when things were simple.
When she was safe with her best friends just hours before. They were laughing
and talking about Homecoming and now she was here, in a dark park with no one
to help her. She had trusted him, but he was now betraying her—body and soul.
“Please, stop,” she begged once again. “I won’t tell anyone. Just stop and let
me go.”

His eyes meet hers. “Shut up!”
Spittle sprayed into her face. She felt his stale breathe against her face. It
was hot and made her eyes tear up more. “You knew this was coming. After all
the teasing you pulled on me, you think I’m not going to take what is mine.
You’re mine and I’ll do whatever I want. You know you want me.”

She held back the sob building in
her throat. How can this be happening? She kicked out, struggling to push him
off. One of his hands grabbed her throat. He flashes the knife so she can see
it once again. He pushed the tip into her left cheek. Hot burning pain overcame
her. Her eyes close to calm her racing thoughts and beating heart. A meek
whisper escaped her lips once again, “Please, you’re hurting…”

1 comment:

I read about a heroic incident that happened in1996 in which a young woman, Keshia Thomas lived up to her values of hope and love during a Klan rally in our hometown of Ann Arbor, Michigan. Interview with an author alum